


The Rose

by theficisalie



Series: The Ink Files [4]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Superheroes, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theficisalie/pseuds/theficisalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob Bryar owns one of the most successful underground bars in Chicago, a bar that just so happens to be the preferred drinking hole for most of the Windy City's supernatural population. He's always been in control of the place, and has kept it running through thick and thin, but with the shadows of change playing over the roof of his beloved club, can Bob stay afloat without risking his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose

**Author's Note:**

> beta: [kazzbot](http://kazzbot.livejournal.com)

The music was loud, the lights were bright, and something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Bob Bryar frowned to himself and scanned the club. Everything looked normal, or at least as normal as the place ever looked, which was...

Well.

At the bar, a handful of Pyros were showing off their “Most Dangerous Drink” game to a pair of what looked like supremely attractive women. The two girls had proclaimed themselves to be “Vampires”, which was mostly a load of horseshit except for the part where they had super strength and speed, and needed lots of blood transfusions to compensate for it. They couldn’t hypnotize or read minds and they didn’t have a sharp sense of smell like some of the seres that Bob knew, but he supposed that the bit about their bodies not producing enough blood for the rest of their mutation was Vampirish enough.

Also, he was never one to mock someone’s chosen name or title, because it usually ended with one person feeling hurt and holding a grudge towards the other. And since supers were generally labelled as being below humanity in non-government-sanctioned arenas, they had to do all they could to stick together as far as Bob was concerned. 

Which was where he and his bar came in to the picture. All of the Others, the non-humans (the Supers if you worked anywhere with anti-discriminatory laws) that Bob could see mingling seemed to be acting just as fine as the Pyros and the Vamps. He could see a fairly large selection of just about all of the superpowers he’d ever heard of had in the bar at this very moment, and nothing really seemed off. But Bob could feel the wrongness like a storm in his bones. And Bob’s bones were really fucking good at sensing storms and other errant weather patterns.

He went first to the Telepath corner, where three surly-looking people were sat, nursing drinks as though they had constant migraines, which they probably did.

“Not a migraine, Bob,” one of them said. “Just all of your insignificant thoughts trying to take over mine.”

Bob sighed. “Nice to see you again, Roy.”

“Mmh,” Roy hummed, bringing his glass up to his lips. “So you need our help.”

Bob nodded.

Mindy, a girl with a shock of red hair and a wicked punch, snorted. “He feels like something’s wrong, can you believe it, Vee?”

“We can’t tell you,” said the woman who Mindy had nodded at. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it bobbed when she talked. “I mean, we don’t know anything more than you do, from a cursory glance.”

“We’d go In, but that’d be a violation,” Roy said.

“Your favourite Weres know though,” Mindy said.

“The shaggy one without a beard that thinks too loudly,” Vee said. “Him especially.”

“I hope that’s enough,” Roy said. “They won’t let anything else go, we’d need to examine them quite deeply and I’m afraid that’s beyond our limits at the moment.”

“Good, thanks,” Bob said. “Seriously. I’ll tell Zack you’ve got a round free, get him to bring something over.”

“We’ll beam our drinks over, Scotty,” Roy mumbled. Mindy giggled and then winced when one of the Pyros shouted.

Bob made his way to the bar and put a hand on the tallest Pyro’s shoulder. “Gill, would you keep it down? Brainkids need a moment.”

“Sure, Bob,” Gill said, looking mildly chastised. “Should we take it outside?”

Bob shook his head. “Just keep the volume down,” he said, tapping his temple. He smiled at the Vampire duo, and drummed his fingers on the counter as he leaned across to Zack.

“Yep, already got their order,” Zack said before Bob could open his mouth. He flipped a cup in the air much to the delight of the girls. “Carry on, boss.”

Right.

He steadied a chair that was about to fall over (some Telekinetic jokery, probably) and slipped around a table of Maenad-types. He knew that Van Vleet and his group would be near the stage. They were scheduled to play tonight, and never had they passed up a chance to live under the bright spotlight that Bob had saved from a decrepit thrift store on the south end.

Sean was pacing on the stage when Bob made it over, and he barely looked up from the floor to acknowledge Bob’s presence.

“Hey, Bob,” Ryan said, looking up from where he was fiddling with some of the stage lights. “Come to ask for an autograph?”

“Right,” Bob said. He snorted when Ryan scoffed; it was more the other way around, with Bob signing a cheque in Van Vleet’s name every two weeks, or sooner if they needed the cash. He crouched down so he was level with the stage, just a bit lower than the line of Ryan’s eyes. “Hey, you wouldn’t know where Tom is, would you?”

Sean stopped in his tracks. “Tom?” he asked, his nostrils flaring. The line of his body was tense. “What do you need him for?” His eyes flashed, that sharp, gold edge coming out momentarily.

Bob kept his hands in close to his body and stayed down, not wanting to alarm Sean or put him on edge: Weres liked to be the bigger person if a fight was going to happen, and especially when they were Pack leaders, like Van Vleet was. “I just wanted to ask him a few questions,” he said, making sure he wasn’t making direct eye contact with the man.

“Why?” Sean asked, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Because,” Bob said, angling his head down like he was dealing with a stray dog. “I can feel a storm coming, and I’d like to know why.”

“Like a rainstorm? Because that’s pretty fucking self-explanatory,” Ryan mumbled.

Sean’s eyes fluttered shut. “Go help Max,” he said.

Ryan threw down the screwdriver he’d been using. “Why do I always gotta be the one who goes?” he grumbled, but left before Sean had to tell him twice.

Bob stood up. He was reasonably sure that Sean wasn’t going to lash out at him now. “It’s been rising for a little while,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening in. “I can kind of feel it in my bones, you know?”

Sean nodded. When he opened his eyes, they were that warm liquid brown again. “Yeah. Things are starting to change around here, Bob Bryar.”

“Like what, have you heard anything specific?” Bob was concerned, and he wasn’t going to bother trying to hide it.

“You know about the rogue Weres,” Sean said. “They’re from out of town, and they have been...messing...with territory lines. Treating them like nothing. Coming and going as they please, and when questioned about their actions, they attack. The Alexes on the other end of town have already lost one of their kin, and it’s only a matter of time before someone’s seriously injured or killed. Again.”

“Right,” Bob said. “So we need to organize something. Watch-people, maybe?”

“Who would be willing to risk their lives for a handful of mangy dogs?” Sean asked, scoffing. “Everyone is only interested in themselves around here.”

“No,” Bob said. “No. We’ll figure something out, Sean. If the out-of-towners are able to destroy the lines of your territory, who’s to say the rest of us won’t be next? I’ll find someone willing to help.”

Sean’s mouth was a thin line, and his nod was fractional, but there. “All right.”

“Is that it? Just the strange pack?” Bob asked. His specialities were mixing drinks, bringing rain, and beating the truth out of people, but he’d rather Sean give him what he needed without any physical provocation. He waited for what seemed like a long time. Finally, Sean shook his head and leaned forward.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, eyes fixed on Bob’s. “But there’s someone me and Tom know. From back in the day, when we lived in New York.”

Bob only knew a small portion of Sean and Tom’s apparently sordid backstory, but he remembered that when he’d first pulled them off the street behind his bar and let them sleep on his floor, they’d been tight-lipped about where they’d appeared from. After they’d met Ryan and then later Max, and had started coming to the bar- working as waiters first and performers second -they’d been more willing to talk and trust. Still, after all that, Bob only knew that they’d been living on the street in New York and had been forced to flee the city as young teens. How they’d ended up in Chicago, of all places, was beyond him.

“From the, uh,” Bob said, wanting to make sure he and Sean were on the same page. “Street?”

Sean nodded. “We kind of split up? Um, when Tom’s stepdad said me and him could live with there for a while, and then we came here after that... Anyway. We haven’t seen him since, but recently, me and Tom have been...” He looked awkward for half a second, like Bob might throw him out for having super senses. “We’ve been smelling him?”

“Here,” Bob said, not flinching or blinking at Sean’s description like a Normal might. Others felt more comfortable when you treated their powers like they were completely natural, which they were. “In Chicago.”

“Yes,” Sean said. He shrugged one shoulder. “He’s here and we don’t know why. And we haven’t gone looking for him, specifically... but you know Walker, right?”

“The barista.”

“Yes. He came over one day, smelling just like our old friend. Said he’d had a few people in for interviews. Tom convinced Jon to give him the job. So we could keep an eye on him. And, we don’t...we don’t know what his intentions are?”

Bob nodded, drumming his fingers on his arm where he’d folded them across his chest. “What does your gut say?”

Sean shrugged again. “He was never bad before. A bit mad, and sad, and off. Like the rest of us. And he doesn’t smell bad now, it’s just. A different scent. Like he’s changed. I think he’d recognize us, though. So we can’t properly tail him or anything.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Bob said.

“Appreciated,” Sean said.

Bob nodded, and thought for a moment before giving Sean a quick smile. “I’ll let you finish setting up. I expect the show to kick ass, right? Let me know if anyone comes in here smelling like your guy, okay.”

“Deal,” Sean said. “And it will, we’ve been working on some new stuff.”

“You haven’t disappointed me yet,” Bob said.


End file.
